Without Reason
by Qwi-Xux
Summary: Everyone wants something to live for, and once they have found it, they will not relinquish it. Not for the entire world. Six part story detailing different points in Ashe and Basch's lives. -complete-
1. I

**A/N: **This is sort of a character study for me. I've never before written Ashe and Basch together, and I'm planning to write a longer Ashe/Basch story, but I wanted to start by writing some pieces just to get a grasp on their characters, their history together, and to get somewhat comfortable writing them. I therefore decided to write this, which I will try to do in six short chapters. Each chapter will deal with a different timeframe in their lives, working steadily toward the future. The chapters, as I said, should be pretty short--just enough, right now, for me to get a grip on Basch and Ashe. Hopefully I won't screw them up too badly. ;)

Many, many thanks go out to all of the wonderful Basch/Ashe fans who have patiently answered my questions and pointed me in the right directions for information. You all are fantastic.

I really have not yet sat down to read many other Basch/Ashe stories--I've only read a few in the past eight or nine months--but I know exploration of their pasts is a popular writing plot point, which makes sense given their history. This is just my own take on what might have happened once upon a time in Basch and Ashe's pasts.

**Disclaimer: **FFXII is still not mine. Anyone surprised? Didn't think so.

* * *

_Life cannot be lived without reason. We must have something to strive for, something to hold onto, something to keep us putting one foot in front of the other when we traverse the deepest, darkest pits. A reason to live. A reason to breathe. A reason to exist when all else seems lost. Some cling to hope, others to love. To hate, to revenge, to duty or honor or hopes of glory._

_Everyone wants a purpose._

_And once they have found it, they will not relinquish it. Not for the entire world._

**:--:--:--:--:**

_**Year 695**_

Basch was lost.

Despite having a very good sense of direction, trying to find his way through the royal palace in Rabanastre was proving to be a perplexing task. Though he supposed he might have become so completely turned around due to the directions one of the soldiers had given him. It also didn't help that he had arrived during a very trying period. It was actually because of the recent events that he was there. The queen had passed away only yesterday, and from everything he saw, the palace was in upheaval. Upheaval--and mourning. Even many of the people in the city had been devastated by their queen's death. He had passed more than one crying face on the way to the palace.

He had met the queen only once, even though he had served in the Order of Knights for five years now, and the one thing he recalled very clearly was thinking how kind her face had looked. His duties had kept him away from the palace for the most part, and so it had only been on occasion that he got other glimpses of the royal family.

Basch finally came to a stop, knowing that if he continued to try to find his own way to the king's audience chamber, he was going to very possibly go in circles. This particular area was devoid of any servants or soldiers. An empty wing of the palace, perhaps. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he walked briskly down the corridor, hoping to find someone else he could ask for directions--someone more reliable than the first soldier.

A small sound, faint but distinct, brought his footsteps to a halt. He cocked his head and heard it again, coming from somewhere to his left. There was only one door along the wall, and as he stepped closer to it, he saw that it wasn't a door as much as an archway that led out into a high-walled courtyard. The bright sunlight shone down into it, revealing a beautiful garden within. Someone had gone to great lengths to cultivate flowers in pathways throughout the courtyard and around a bubbling fountain in the center. A single stone bench was nestled into the corner, and it was from this bench that the noises Basch had heard were coming from--or more particularly, from the child sitting on the bench.

It was a little girl, probably seven or eight years old. Her long pale hair was tangled and dirty, as though she had taken a roll in one of the flower beds, and her plain black dress was torn down the skirt. Dirt and tears smudged her cheeks, and even as Basch watched, her small shoulders shook and more tears spilled down her face. Her crying was choked and strangled, as though she was trying as hard as she could to hold it in. He supposed her to be the daughter of a servant or maybe a soldier. Perhaps she was upset over the death of the queen, or perhaps she'd had an argument with a parent, or something else. With children one could never know what might upset them.

It was at that moment that the girl caught sight of him standing in the archway, and even from across the courtyard, Basch could see her suddenly stiffen. Her sobs shuddered to a halt, though some tears still leaked out of the corners of her eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Her voice was so sharp, in wild contrast to the distress he had just seen and heard from her, but she still sounded tremulous. He considered her for a moment before stepping into the courtyard. "I am Basch. And who might you be?" He took slow, careful steps toward her, afraid that he might scare her if he approached too quickly.

She blinked at him. "You mean you--" She cut herself off quickly and looked down at her lap, then back up at his face. Pale gray eyes studied him. "Ashe," she said quietly. She scrubbed grubby hands across her face, smearing more dirt across it.

"May I sit?" Basch asked, motioning at the bench beside her.

Ashe was quiet, still studying him with those uncannily keen eyes, before she nodded once, and he sat carefully beside her. "Do you not have somewhere else to be? Everyone is…quite…busy today…" Her voice dropped off and her eyes filled again. She quickly ducked her head to hide her tears.

"Truthfully, I do have somewhere to be, but I seem to have taken a wrong turn along the way," Basch said, frowning in sympathy as the child very obviously tried not to start sobbing again. Her small shoulders were trembling with the effort. "What of you? Do you not have somewhere to be? Someone looking for you?"

Ashe stiffened again. "It matters not. I did not wish to be found. Yet I am discovered anyway."

What a strange child. She was very well-spoken, even in her distress. He wanted say or do something to comfort her, but wasn't sure what to say or do. Asking if she was all right was pointless, since the answer was obvious. Prying about why she was crying could be something that would upset her further. Basch finally settled on quietly asking, "Is there something I might do to help you?"

There was a long silence, in which Ashe looked at him as if trying to figure out whether he was being genuine. He accepted her scrutiny and kept his eyes steadily upon her in return. Finally, she shook her head swiftly. "You should go," she said. "If you are looking for the king's audience chamber, you must go out, to your left, down the staircase at the end of the hall, through the second room on your right--"

Basch could only blink at her as she recited quick, deliberate directions; he was so startled that he missed half of what she said. "I do not recall speaking of my destination," he said.

"You didn't," Ashe replied dully. "Yet you are a knight and you are new to the palace. Where else would you be going?"

Of course she realized he was a knight; he was in uniform. However-- "How did you know I am new?"

"You're lost," she said pointedly. "And I do not recognize you." She stood abruptly, walking to the fountain, where she splashed water on her face. He also stood as she turned again to face him. "You must be very pleased to be given a post in the palace."

Yes, a _very _strange child indeed. Perhaps she was the daughter of another knight, that she spoke so well and knew so much about the palace and knights. She was, if nothing else, very perceptive. Before he could think how to respond to her, she said, "I must have your promise that you will speak to no one of finding me here."

Basch's eyes narrowed slightly. He would not do anything to inadvertently put anyone in danger, and he still did not know who this child really was or what had so upset her. If she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be--

As if guessing the line of his thoughts, she said softly, "This is…was…my mother's garden. A place where she would bring me, only me, and no one else. Not my caretakers or guards or brothers...you were not supposed to be here."

It was only then that the pieces suddenly fell into place, and Basch wondered how he could not have realized it immediately. _Ashe. _Of course. "You are Princess Ashelia." Well, wasn't this awkward. He had spent five minutes sitting with and plainly talking to the youngest child of his king and late queen.

"If you start bowing to me now, I shall--I shall hit you!" Ashe--Princess Ashelia--suddenly exclaimed, freezing Basch in the process of beginning a bow.

He slowly straightened. Ashe's eyes and cheeks were wet again, but she was staring at him steadily. "Promise me you will tell no one I was here."

He did not see the harm in the child wanting to be alone in her mother's garden, and so he nodded once. "I will tell no one."

"_Promise._"

"I promise, Princess."

"_Ashe_," she whispered. "I don't--want--" Her lower lip trembled, and then her whole body was shaking. Basch fully expected her to burst into tears any moment, but instead she straightened and sucked in a sharp breath. "Come. I will show you to the audience chamber. I do not wish my caretaker to discover I am not in my bed."

Basch's eyebrows rose at this comment, but before giving him a chance to speak, she whirled and left the courtyard, and he could do nothing but follow. Ashe kept her eyes straight ahead, not looking back at him as she led him through the palace, down winding stairways and through at least one hidden door, through rooms and down corridors, until at last she came to a halt in a much busier part of the palace. "Here."

No sooner had they stopped when a familiar voice suddenly said, "Basch!"

Basch turned to see a well-known man swiftly approaching, and he grinned broadly and clasped his old friend's wrist in greeting. "Vossler."

"I was starting to think you were lost." Then Vossler's eyes turned to the dirty child next to him and his eyes widened. "Princess Ashelia? What happened to you? I thought you were asleep in your room!"

Ashe simply looked up at him blandly. "I took a walk."

Vossler sighed. "You know Alys does not wish you to be around the castle without an escort, Princess."

"Alys is not my mother," Ashe replied sharply. "And as you can see, I am _not _without an escort."

Basch refrained, at least for the moment, from mentioning that she had, in fact, been escorting him. This day was certainly not going at all as he had anticipated.

"Your father does not wish you to be without an escort, either, Princess," Vossler said, not backing down at all. "After the assassination attempt on your brother--"

"I know very well about that, thank you. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my room."

Vossler gave Basch a very long-suffering look. "I will escort you, Princess. Basch, we'll speak later. You're to meet with King Raminas now; just tell the soldiers at those doors who you are." He motioned to a set of large double doors where two soldiers stood guard.

"Aye." Basch took a step toward the doors.

"Sir Basch."

Basch turned to find Princess Ashelia standing directly behind him, while Vossler watched her with some bemusement. "Princess?"

In a voice so quiet that he had to lean toward her to hear her, she whispered, "Thank you." Then she turned, nodded at Vossler, and set off down the hallway once more.

Basch watched her go, his brow furrowed. Even in the wake of losing her mother, there was a strength in the princess that took him by surprise. She was obviously suffering the loss deeply, but she was trying desperately not to show it, and he knew from experience that sooner or later it would catch up to her. Still, he had seen the resolve in her, and had discovered that the princess was somehow not what he had expected.

It was the first time he learned not to underestimate Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca.


	2. II

**A/N: **Thank you so very much to my reviewers: Drink. Juice, Baschashe, kissychan, and Laguna's twin sister. I really appreciate the feedback! :)

Sorry this took so long. I had about three different versions of this and was pulling bits and pieces from all of them until I was satisfied with what I had. I also had to take a few days to edit my second co-written original manuscript so that it can be ready to submit to my publisher. I nearly went insane after three straight days of staring at a computer screen and editing, but I did it, and now I can focus on Ashe and Basch. And then update my Vaan/Penelo stuff. Whew.

For this chapter, I was trying to avoid writing about more deaths, but the fact of the matter is, Ashe was surrounded by death. She lost a _lot _of people, and I couldn't avoid that; I think it plays a lot into why she is who she is, and things she might fear. I think that she probably would have handled it in different ways at different ages, and each new death would have taken its toll on her. So even though I worried this chapter and the last would be redundant, I needed to write both.

* * *

_**Year 701**_

The stone floor was cold under Ashe's bare feet. She moved silently through the palace halls, curling her toes on the hard, chill floor. Her feet only warmed when she took detours through rooms laid out with intricately designed carpet. She glanced briefly over her shoulder as she moved stealthily through rooms and corridors. There were guards stationed throughout the palace, but they didn't notice her. She knew every alternate route, every secret passage, every nook and cranny big enough to crawl into or through. It was with ease that she wound her way to the opposite side of the palace. She had lived here, after all, for fourteen years, and that was plenty of time to acquaint herself with the layout of her home. It had, perhaps, been frustrating for her caretakers, though her elder brothers had always encouraged her in her antics. The amount of scolding they had received on her behalf had endeared each one of them to her, even when they teased her and pulled her hair and took her toys.

She had always thought it was difficult being the youngest and the only girl, but she knew now that it had certainly been easier than being the only one at all.

It was as though there was a strange, bubbled haze around her. She didn't even know where she was going, and she didn't care. Somewhere, anywhere, as long as she was moving, because she was afraid of what might happen if she stopped. At least walking, she knew she was still alive, still feeling.

She knew she was still feeling because her feet were cold. It was the only thing she knew right now, as absurd as that would have sounded if she had tried to explain. Would anyone else understand that she felt completely numb everywhere else? Numb and empty, a complete void of _nothing_, and she didn't know how that could be possible. She should be feeling everything, not nothing.

The last echo of the palace bells faded completely, ending the death toll for the final prince of Dalmasca. She should be crying. She should be yelling. She should be doing _something _to show how affected she was by the death of her last living brother, but the tears would not come. They had not come at all, not when she lost her first brother to the plague, and not now that the last one was dead. It was as if every death only made her more distanced, more hollow.

Death had stolen so many away since the plague hit Rabanastre. It was indiscriminant--it took peasants and nobles, servants and knights, sweeping in and setting into some while leaving the person in the next bed untouched. How was it that five of her brothers were dead from the ravaging disease, yet she was unaffected? Why should she be spared?

Ashe was beyond fear that she would fall ill; everyone said the plague had already chosen its victims. All that was left was to watch them die. Then it would be over.

As if it was just that easy. As if it could ever truly be over. All of her brothers were now dead--one born too early to live for more than a few days, one to an accident before she was even born, and one to lung disease when she was but a child. And now the rest gone, leaving her the sole surviving heir to the Dalmascan throne.

She did not want it. She did not want any of it. She did not want to see her father, to witness the terrible grief in his eyes. Did not want to be the one that the kingdom would look to as their future ruler. Did not want to walk past her brothers' empty rooms or the training yard where they had helped her learn to wield a sword.

Most of all, she did not want to feel nothing.

Ashe only recognized where she had ended up when her feet stopped moving, almost of their own accord. She was outside the barracks on the grounds, where soldiers and knights bunked when they were on duty at the palace. What was she doing here?

The lights within the barracks were on, for though it was nearing midnight, no one was truly sleeping much these days, particularly the knights and soldiers.

And of course, they would have heard the bells.

"Lady Ashe?" a light, tenor voice asked in puzzlement.

Ashe turned to see a young soldier approaching from the side of the barracks. She had no words, though, still staring dumbly and wondering what she was doing here.

"My lady, you ought not be out here at this hour! You will catch cold!"

The stupefied haze was suddenly punctured at those ridiculous words, and Ashe started laughing. She couldn't help it. Catch _cold? _With people dropping like flies left and right, with her last brother _dead,_ all this soldier thought about was that she might catch cold?

Her humorless laughter cut off as quickly as it had begun, and it was only then that Ashe realized she was no longer standing. She was kneeling on the chilly earth, the soldier crouching beside her, his worried voice in her ear. "Lady Ashe! Are you all right?" He tried to help her to her feet. "Come, you must--"

She yanked away from him, and he immediately backed away a step, still frowning at her with that deep concern. "My lady, please--"

"Ashelia?" A new, very familiar voice met her ears, and she froze as footsteps approached swiftly from behind her. "Lady Ashe, what are you doing here?" Basch stepped in front of her, worry written on his own face.

She knew, now, why her footsteps had carried her here. Aside from her father, there were very few people in her life who truly saw and understood her. Her brothers had been some of those people, and now that they were gone, she had no one left to turn to. There were also very few people who were constants in her life, but Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg was one of them. He had safeguarded her family and trained knights and soldiers at the palace for six years, and aside from her family, seemed to be one of the only people who truly saw her. Her father was in too much pain to really see her clearly right now. And she needed to be seen clearly. She needed to be understood, because she did not understand herself.

Vaguely, she noted that Basch was speaking quietly to the soldier, and then the soldier was gone and Basch was kneeling on the ground in front of her. "My lady?"

When she didn't respond, he leaned back on his heels and rubbed a hand across his face. "I am…at a loss," he said quietly. "I would express how sorry I am about Garred, but I fear words could not possibly suffice. He was a great man." When she still did not speak, he added heavily, "We have lost many great men."

"H-How?" The question came out somehow torn and pleading at the same time.

Basch was watching her, waiting for her to clarify her question. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to ask, but as he continued to steadily look at her, the words were drawn from her mouth in a whisper. "How can you bear it? All this death…all of it. What do you do? How do you keep on with such--" _strength._ Basch had the greatest inner strength she had ever witnessed, and he had faced such loss of his own. She knew that he had lost his homeland to the Empire, and also his own family, including a brother. She had asked him about his brother only once, and he had told her, "I--lost him to the Empire when Landis fell."

There had been such pain in his eyes when he said this that she had thereafter refrained from asking anymore on the subject.

"Everyone suffers loss, Ashelia," he told her now, his voice heavy. "No one escapes it in life."

"How do you continue?"

"I have hope. I believe that as long as we draw breath, there is always a chance."

"It's not enough." Ashe's voice came out harsh, much harsher than she had intended. "It's not going to bring anyone back. Not any of my brothers. Not my mother. Not anyone."

"Yet still we must press on."

"Why?"

Basch was a long moment in responding, and when he did speak, it was with a very simple answer. "Because we are still alive to do so."

The rest of the haze surrounding Ashe vanished as if someone had ripped it away. The slender thread that had been holding her together snapped, and she quickly discovered that her emotions had not disappeared. She later understood that it was shock that had numbed her so terribly the past days, an unwillingness or inability to face the pain, but at the moment, all she understood was that she hurt. She hurt so desperately and so deeply that it was all she could do to breathe. She doubled over and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to somehow hold in the agony. The words that came seemed like they should have been shouted, but they emerged in a ragged whisper. "Why me? Why _me? _Why am I the only one left? Why didn't death take me as well? Why…" Her breath caught and she was suddenly weeping, wrenching sobs that were torn from her without her concession and she hated it. She didn't want to be crying, not at all, especially not here in the middle of the grounds while Basch was watching.

Yet she could not stop it, could not even find the strength to stand, and when Basch rested a hand on her shoulder, she shattered completely. She did not know how to accept the comfort when she herself did not know if she had the right to be comforted.

She somehow found her feet and fled, her bare feet racing back the way she had come. There was no sneaking this time; she dashed past startled guards, and yet none stopped her as she ran to her room. She was out of breath when she got there, more because she was still crying than because the running had tired her. She flung herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow. She screamed until her throat was raw and her tears had stopped flowing. Then slowly, achingly, she curled up, shivering and shuddering, but at least the horrible sobs had stopped.

Ashe didn't remember falling asleep, but when her eyes opened again, the sun was shining brightly through her window. Her feet were still bare and dirty, her dress was a rumpled mess, and her hair a snarled disaster. She did not care. She still ached horribly deep inside, but she somehow felt slightly better for having released some of the agony through her tears.

She lay in bed for quite a long time, until her thoughts turned to her father. She thought that now she might be ready to face him. She needed to see him. She was the only one he had left.

She tried not to feel guilty about that, but was not certain she was entirely successful.

Ashe changed her clothes, combed her hair, and splashed some water on her face. She pulled on a pair of slippers, and finally deeming herself at least vaguely presentable, she quietly opened the door to her room. When she stepped out into the hall, it was to find Basch standing beside her door. One look at him and she realized how tired he looked. His eyes met hers and she stared at him for a long moment before asking, "Have you been here all night?"

There was a pause before he replied, "Aye, my lady."

Ashe pulled her gaze away from his. She knew him well enough to realize that he had probably followed her on her frantic run through the palace to make sure, no doubt, that she was safe.

She closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "I wish to see my father."

"I shall escort you."

Ashe gave another nod, and Basch fell into step beside her. She glanced sideways at him as they walked through the corridors, and she found herself wondering if he had ever questioned why he was the only one in his family to survive. If he had ever been angry at the loss of those he loved. She wondered how he could maintain such deep conviction in the face of so much death and destruction. And she wondered if she would ever have the strength to do the same without doubting herself.

It was the first time she truly understood how much she had come to depend on Basch's unwavering strength.


	3. III

**A/N:** Thank you so very much to everyone who reviewed: kissychan, TheAngel'sLover, Drink. Juice, a-alexiel, and Baschashe. :)

Moving on…I tried to portray what I thought Ashe's attitude might have been at this point in her life. Watching the opening sequence to FFXII, it's obvious that she's not quite as…hardened, perhaps, as she is two years later in the game. This chapter is a bit shorter than my other ones, but I portrayed everything I needed to. And I suspect the next few chapters might make up for it in length. We'll see. ;)

* * *

_**Year 704**_

Basch had been standing outside the door all morning, while maidservants bustled in and out, all in a state of harried anticipation. As he watched them come and go, he wondered how Ashelia was faring amidst the preparations, knowing how much she disliked being fussed over.

Finally, the servants began trickling out, until the last one, her elderly former caretaker Alys, stepped out the door and smiled at Basch. "Her majesty is ready. Just in time, I think?"

It was indeed time for Basch to escort Ashe to the front hall. He and Vossler were leading those responsible for the protection of Ashe and Rasler this day, should someone attempt to disrupt their wedding. Most of the citizens of Nabradia and Dalmasca were ecstatic about the marriage, but Basch was well aware that there would always be some who were unhappy no matter what was done. This always had the potential to translate into violence against leadership, and that potential always grew in the midst of large events. The parade was going to be the worst of it, as Ashe and Rasler would be moving slowly through a crowd of thousands of people.

"I had no doubts her majesty would be ready on time," Basch said, and Alys smiled and patted his hand with her gnarled fingers before moving on down the hall to join the other servants heading out to watch the parade.

Basch stepped into the room and stood by the doorway. Ashe was standing perfectly still in front of a mirror, staring at it in a way that made Basch wonder if she was truly seeing her appearance or if her mind was elsewhere. He waited at the edge of the room, and when she didn't seem to notice him, he cleared his throat. "My lady? It's time. Vossler is waiting with your father and Lord Rasler."

Ashe blinked and moved her eyes away from her reflection. For a moment, she stared at him as though she wasn't entirely certain of why he was there, but then her eyes cleared and a faint smile touched her lips. "Already?" She twisted her hands together, a nervous habit she'd had as long as Basch had known her. "Very well." She smoothed her dress. "Do I look presentable, Captain?"

Basch wasn't entirely sure how to appropriately answer that. "Aye, my lady." In truth, she looked quite lovely. She looked…very grown up.

"Have you seen Rasler as of yet?"

"I saw him a short time ago, Princess."

Ashe nodded, still not moving to follow him out the door. Instead, she looked back at the mirror. "Everyone has been saying how like my mother I am in this dress." She paused. "My mother married quite young. She was only fifteen."

"I have heard."

Ashe reached out and touched the glass, as though in touching her reflection she somehow could reach her mother, long dead. "She loved my father very much." She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then again turned away from the mirror, facing Basch directly. "I am…uncertain."

Basch caught a brief glimpse of the sudden fear on Ashe's face before she covered it again with a calm expression. Even then, he could see it a little in her eyes. She was still talking, very softly. "I…always knew that my marriage would be for the benefit of Dalmasca. This, I do not regret."

Basch simply watched her, allowing her to speak her mind. It had often been this way over the years, that when Ashe had the need to work through something, he ended up being the one to listen and offer what words he could give. He had sometimes wondered how he had ended up in that role, and supposed he had spent so much time as her protector that he was one of the few people around whom she was truly comfortable.

Then, abruptly, she asked him, "Have you ever loved, Basch?"

Loved? He had fled to Dalmasca when he was Ashe's age and had then devoted his life to serving the country. Over time he had come to love Dalmasca as his own, and to fiercely care for its leaders, including the young woman now standing in her wedding dress before him. Yet he had not loved as she meant it. There had been a time or two when he could have possibly loved in that way, but his duties to king and country had always kept him at a distance. "Not as such."

"I do care for Rasler." Ashe closed her eyes. "Sometimes…I just wish…" She shook her head and opened her eyes. "Sometimes I wish I was not bound so by duty and birthright."

"We are all bound by something, Ashelia," he told her quietly. "We all have a duty to fulfill, sometimes of our choosing, and sometimes because it is thrust upon us, which does not make it any less important."

"I know." Ashe took a deep breath. She straightened and looked at him. "I am ready." She walked toward him, her wedding veil flowing behind her as she moved. "Rasler is a good man," she said.

"He is. I believe he cares deeply for you, Princess."

"I believe so as well." She rested her fingertips on his arm, though he did not feel it beneath his armor. "You are a good man, too, Basch. I thank you. I--do not know what I would have done without your advice through the years." She offered him a small smile, though he could tell she was still very anxious.

He began to bow in acknowledgment of her thanks, but familiar words dropped from her mouth before he could complete the gesture. "By the gods, Basch, do _not _start bowing to me on this day!" She took a deep breath and then let it out.

A smile twitched Basch's lips. "Yes, Majesty."

As Basch escorted her to the front hall where her groom awaited, he felt a deep pride for the young princess. Not just the pride of a knight in his sovereign, but a personal pride in who she had grown into. He had been catching glimpses the past few years of the woman she would one day become, but he saw now, more than ever before, that she was not a child anymore. He knew that she would one day be as worthy a queen as she was a princess.

It was the first time he truly ceased to see her as a girl and began to see her as a woman.


	4. IV

**A/N: **Many thanks out to my lovely reviewers: kissychan, Baschashe, Earisu, Feeny, and Drink. Juice. You all are very much appreciated. :)

This chapter it took me forever to decide what timeframe I wanted to write. There are just so many to choose from, and I wanted to do some from in-game, so ultimately that's what I went with. ;) It also took me forever to get it posted because my co-writer and I are doing NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) for our third original novel, which basically means I'm writing like a crazy fiend through the month of November. And I do have a family to take care of and spend time with. ;) Yay for caffeine!

Also, a note on Ashe's rings: I know that common consensus is that Balthier took Ashe's wedding ring, but I fail to see that. He took the ring on her second finger, _not _her ring finger. The ring she was wearing in the balcony flashback with Rasler was what I always assumed to be her wedding ring, and it's not the one Balthier took. Which always made me curious about her other ring. ;)

* * *

_**Year 706**_

After the destruction of the _Leviathan _and the Archadian fleet, returning to Rabanastre had seemed the best course of action. They had to be careful about it, of course, but even though they had to lay low--for Ashe and Basch were presumed dead by some and were wanted by others--Ashe was glad to be back in the city, if even for a brief respite. Everything about it reminded her of _home_--the smells of the desert air, a hint of rain drifting in from the Giza Plains; the hot sun warming her skin, the familiar banter of the merchants and citizens along the city's thoroughfares. Though she had suffered great pain and loss in this city, she had also experienced great love and joy, and she only had to set foot in it to be reminded of the many reasons she was fighting so hard to restore her kingdom.

The weary party made their way to an empty house that Ashe knew was kept by members of the resistance for anyone who had need of it, hoping that it might at this time be empty. They tried to move inconspicuously through Rabanastre, all of them fully aware of the Archadian soldiers at every turn.

It wasn't long before they reached their sanctuary, and Ashe was relieved to discover it was currently empty. The group made their way inside, dropping bags, armor, and weapons near the door, while Balthier immediately went in search of a bath.

Part of Ashe was glad for some rest, but the larger part was restless and anxious. So much had happened. There was still so much to be done, and she had no idea what her next steps should be. She was wrestling with herself. She was _always_ wrestling with herself lately; she didn't seem to be able to avoid it. She still wondered how she had ended up in her quest to restore her kingdom with two sky pirates, two street orphans, and…

And Basch.

There were so many things weighing on her mind. So much had happened the past weeks that had forced her to question everything she had believed to be true, everything that she had expected or thought trustworthy, and now she was just doing everything she could to plunge onward and somehow keep her feet at the same time.

The whirlwind events of the past days had left her in a perpetual state of heightened awareness, one with which she was very familiar. She had found over the years that with every increasing loss, with every tragedy, every death and betrayal, she no longer grew numb and distant, but instead was driven forward by sheer determination and relentless tenacity.

She had not slept well in days, and was thoroughly drained. She tried to rest, hoping that maybe sleep would claim her and give her even a brief respite from her thoughts, but it was to no avail. Finally, as evening fell, Vaan and Penelo slipped out of the safehouse to visit Lowtown; apparently they wanted to check up on the younger orphans living there. Still exhausted and feeling a bit stifled, Ashe gave up on the idea of sleep and stepped outside to sit on the single stair in front of the door, staying in the shadows so that anyone glancing her way would simply see her silhouette. The darkening night aided her in that respect, and for a time, Ashe simply watched the people. Most shops were closing for the night, and their owners and employees were making their way home. The occasional soldier passed by, not sparing a glance toward her. And the children. Always children, everywhere.

The door creaked open, and Ashe wasn't surprised to hear Basch's voice. "Lady Ashe."

She glanced at him, standing at attention by the door, and was suddenly flooded with a hundred other memories of moments very similar to this. Back when she had a throne and he was not considered a traitor. Back before both of them had been proclaimed dead. Sometimes, lately, she thought that things were not so different. He had, in the strangest twist of fate, ended up right where he had left off as her protector. Yet there was no doubt that everything had changed. Not just in Archadia's schemes forcing them both out of their home, but in who they had both become.

"Basch." She hesitated a moment, and then motioned to the step. "Will you sit?"

Basch slowly sat beside her, staring, as she did, out at the street. After a moment, he said, "I had not realized how many children were orphaned until after my escape from Nalbina."

"There are many. Far more than there should ever be, thanks in no small part to how many of their parents died when the Archadians took over the city," Ashe replied, equally quiet. "Most are so very young." She always ached for them at that thought, wondering if they would grow up remembering their parents at all, or if all they would have were memories of war and soldiers.

Ashe glanced at Basch out of the corner of her eye. No, they certainly were not the same people they had been. They were both disillusioned. They both had more sharp edges than they had two years earlier when they had last parted.

"It took a very long time," she found herself quietly saying. Basch looked at her, but she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. "When Vossler came to take me from the palace, when he told me that you had betrayed us all…I couldn't believe it. I…could not. It did not matter to me that there had been eyewitnesses. I trusted you more than anything someone could tell me you had done. I knew--I had thought I knew you better."

There was a moment of silence, and then Basch said slowly, "It was Reks. Vaan's elder brother--a brave and loyal young man if ever I met one. Much like his brother. They fooled him. _He _fooled him."

She knew. After Vossler had first left her in Basch's care in Bhujerba, she had finally, _finally _been able to demand answers of him. Had finally learned that when Basch had told her he lost a brother to Archadia, he had meant that his brother had _joined _Archadia. It had been quite jarring to learn that there was another man, now a judge in Archadia, who looked exactly like Basch. She had wished, briefly, that Basch had told her--told _someone--_that he had an identical twin brother. If she had known, then Archadia could not have used the ruse of Basch as a traitor to take Dalmasca.

"I am a fool," she whispered, twisting her rings around her fingers. She wore two of them still--her wedding band, and beside it, her mother's own wedding band, which her father had worn around his neck until the day he left for the treaty signing at Nalbina Fortress. On that day, he had turned the ring over to Ashe, and it had been then that she knew her father was just as uncertain of the treaty's outcome. The rings now served as reminders of why she fought. Of why she pressed on relentlessly toward a goal that many believed would be impossible. "After everything," she said slowly, "after all that happened, still I trust. Though my trust has been shattered and put back together, I still…" She shook her head.

"That does not make you a fool."

"Does it not? I spent two years believing I had misplaced my trust in you. I was--" Here, she hesitated. Those first months had been nearly unbearable. Once she had accepted Basch's betrayal, she had been stricken with anger, but more than that, with pain beyond belief. She had been utterly alone, except for Vossler, and she had never connected with him as she always had with Basch. Vossler had always been more impetuous, less patient. At times she had been frustrated with Vossler simply because he wasn't Basch, which had then made her frustrated with herself. Why, she had asked herself, was she mourning the loss of someone who had murdered her father? She should be glad he had been executed for what he had done to Dalmasca.

Yet she had only hurt worse.

She did not speak these thoughts aloud, but Basch was studying her shrewdly, and she'd not have been surprised if he already knew all that had passed through her mind. He had always seen more of her than she tried to let people see.

"They told me you had killed yourself," Basch told her, his eyes growing distant.

Ashe had considered that he might have heard such, and she now found herself asking, "Did you believe it?"

"No." He shook his head, his eyes clearing, and said, "There were times I wondered. It was easy to doubt and question when trapped in darkness, but I could not believe that of you."

Ashe looked down at hands, fiddling with her rings again. "You had more faith than I."

"Do not blame yourself for that."

"Who else am I to blame? Archadia may have created the lies, but I believed them."

There was another silence, but not an uncomfortable one, as together they watched a little girl and little boy race by, heading for the stairs into Lowtown, both laughing. Ashe gazed at them, wondering in their ability to seem so happy in the midst of the turmoil that had engulfed Rabanastre for so long.

"I do not know what to do for Dalmasca," she said softly. "There continue to be…strange events at play." How else did she explain seeing Rasler's ghost in Raithwall's Tomb? Or after the destruction of Archadia's fleet, Rasler's ghost handing her the dawn shard? "Yet I do not know what to make of them. And Vossler…" A sharp pang of anger and aching, this one much duller than it once would have been, before life had beaten her over the head with lessons of broken trusts and impending deaths.

"Vossler did what he thought best for Dalmasca. And for you," Basch said.

"I know. It does not make what he did right."

"No, my lady."

"He did not believe I had another choice." Ashe looked directly at Basch. "Do you?"

Basch continued to study her, and he was quiet for so long that she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then he said, "I must believe so."

"On board the _Leviathan_," Ashe began slowly, "when first we met again." She didn't need to elaborate; there was absolutely no possibility either of them would ever forget that momentous meeting. "You told me you would have me live in shame, if that was my duty."

Basch again met her eyes squarely. "Aye, my lady."

Perhaps others would not fully understand how significant it was that the first thing Basch had really said to her after their two year separation was _that_. It had not occurred to her at that moment, because she had been too confused, agonized, and furious. It wasn't until much later that she had reflected on it and realized exactly what he had said to her. He had not stood up and defended himself, had not tried to tell her he was innocent. He had accepted her anger and blame, and had done exactly what he had done for as long as she had known him: he had tried to set her on her feet. He had not wanted her to shirk her duty to her people because it could bring personal shame to _her. _Not because he did not care for her, but because he cared for her enough to want her to be a good ruler. He loved Dalmasca as she did and his words to her that day were evidence of his own willingness to live in shame should it aid their country.

"You have given so much to Dalmasca," Ashe said. "I fear it is a debt that cannot be repaid."

"I need no repayment," Basch replied. "It will be enough to save Dalmasca. It will be enough to restore you to your rightful place so that you may restore our home."

Ashe studied his profile in the darkness, then stood to her feet. Basch rose with her, and she said very quietly, "You have given so much to me, and I _know_ it is a debt I cannot repay." Before he could answer that, she said quickly, "I believe I shall try to sleep now. Good night, Basch."

He began, almost reflexively, to bow to her, and she caught his arm to stop him. Gray eyes met blue, and she whispered, "Do not bow to me."

His eyes were intense as he straightened and nodded once. "Yes, my lady."

She twisted the handle on the door and pushed it open, and his voice followed her as she stepped through it. "Good night, Ashelia."

Fran and Balthier were sitting at the table inside the house, drinking the rum they had procured on an earlier visit to the Sandsea. She turned down Balthier's offer for a drink and lay down, feeling very strange. The image of Basch's eyes was burned into her mind, the intensity behind his gaze, and it remained there even when she shut her own eyes.

It was the first time she began to realize just how much and how deeply she loved Basch, though she could not yet admit it, even to herself.


	5. V

**A/N: **Thank you once again to my lovely reviewers: kissychan, Drink. Juice, TheAngel'sLover, Baschashe, and Lady of Balfonheim. :)

I debated for a while about what timeframe to write; I had decided, after a conversation with Drink. Juice to write just after Ashe's talk with the Occuria, but that wasn't working how I liked, so I went with just after Ashe destroyed the Sun-Cryst, but before _Bahamut._

I've had to do an insane amount of writing lately--I mean INSANE--so that's what took me so long on this. And this chapter was written while I was very frazzled, extremely caffeinated, and at a very late hour. Let's hope it's intelligible. ;)

* * *

_**Year 706**_

Ashe was sitting on the edge of the low stone wall that looked over the harbor in Balfonheim Port, dangling her feet in the water, her boots placed neatly beside her. In the fading sunlight, she looked small and forlorn, very unlike the woman that Basch had come to know during this journey. In her posture, however, he could see something of the girl he had once known, back when she had let her guard down more than she did now.

Vaan and Penelo had run off somewhere, and Balthier and Fran had chosen to remain inside the inn and have a drink (or four) in preparation for the morning's flight to the _Bahamut._ Basch had walked with Ashe out to the harbor, and he sat with her in comfortable silence--though with his feet out of the water.

She hadn't spoken more than a few words since their earlier conversation with Al-Cid. She hadn't really spoken much at all since their departure from the Pharos at Ridorana, but he could tell that she was thinking over everything that had happened. She had faced her crucial moment and she had overcome, putting an end to the Sun-Cryst. She had faced her father's murderer and Basch had faced his brother--but even that had still been Ashe's fight.

Ashe swirled her toe around the water, still staring out at the darkening horizon, before breaking her silence. "No matter what tomorrow brings us, I am at peace with myself for the first time in a very long time."

"You did well, my lady," Basch told her quietly.

"It was not only me," Ashe replied, shaking her head. "I've thought on it a great deal. All of you helped me see. Vaan and Penelo, who daily reminded me of what I wanted Dalmasca to be again. Balthier, who proved to care enough for something other than treasure to try to put me on the right path. You." She glanced at him. "Judge Gabranth sealed it with his own words when he said, _'What of your broken kingdom's shame? The dead demand justice.' _I suppose, truly, it was your words that made me understand. There was something you said to me when Larsa first approached me about working with Archadia. I have thought on it often." Her voice was very quiet, and her gaze was back on the water. "You told me that if you could save even one person from war's horror, then you would bear any shame proudly. When Gabranth spoke to me of Dalmasca's shame, I realized--how could I do any less than bear that shame if that is what my kingdom needed? If that was my duty? Dalmasca did not need revenge. It needs restoration." She spoke so softly that he had to lean toward her to hear her next words. "Yet...it is still not over. What if I fail?"

"You have already succeeded in more ways than perhaps even you know," Basch replied. Ashe had become the leader that she had always been destined to become. She had passed through the fire and the trials and she had stood strong. She was everything Basch had ever hoped she would be as his future queen. He was not sure that she could see that about herself, but whatever happened on the _Bahamut, _she had proven herself to be exactly the ruler Dalmasca needed. Despite everything she had suffered, despite every death and betrayal, she had held onto something that many others would have lost: her compassion. He had witnessed it on frequent occasions during their journey together. He had watched her stop to speak to a child in Rabanastre who was requesting one gil for a story, and she had given the child a handful of gil and some food to go with it. He had watched her give her only spare blanket to a refugee on Mt. Bur-Omisace. He had seen her tend to Penelo when the girl spent one night sick after eating some bad fish. He had watched, just today, as she comforted Vaan upon Reddas's death. Even after facing Gabranth, after facing the form of Rasler that the Ocurria had been creating, after making one of the most momentous decisions in her life, her thoughts had not been for herself. He had observed many other kindnesses on her part, and each one had only showed him evermore that she was worthy of the task placed upon her shoulders.

She looked over at him again, seeming about to speak, but as soon as her eyes met his, she closed her mouth and blinked at him. It was only then that he realized how he was staring at her. There was a strange moment between them then that seemed to last an eternity but was probably only an instant, where everything was suspended and it was just _them_. It was a moment of absolute clarity, where he did not just see Ashe as his future queen, nor even as the friend he so treasured.

It was a moment that utterly terrified him and exhilarated him in a way he had never before experienced. It was all he could do to drag his gaze away from hers, his heart pounding strangely loud in his ears, wondering what madness had overcome him.

Ashe certainly didn't help matters when she reached out a hesitant hand and gently touched his cheek, turning his face back toward her. She could have no idea how much that simple gesture set an aching knot in the pit of his stomach. How long had it been since anyone had touched him in a way that was kind? Sometime long before Nalbina, he was sure, before the months of imprisonment had taken their toll on his body and the only touch he had received had been in the form of beatings.

Ashe's hand lifted to trace across his scar and down the side of his scruffy face. He sat perfectly still, sure that he should be moving, moving _away _from her, sure from the expression on her face that he could not simply _sit _there. Before he could decide to move, Ashe pulled her hand away, curling her fingers into a fist. "Basch, I--" But she stopped and shook her head slightly, looking completely away from him so that he couldn't read her expression at all. After a minute of silence, she turned back to him and there was a very small smile curving the corners of her mouth. "I suppose I should rest for a while. We'll soon be leaving for the _Bahamut._"

She began to pull her boots back on, and Basch stood to his feet, waiting for her to finish so he could escort her back to the inn. His heart was still racing far faster than it should have been. They walked back to the inn in silence, but Basch couldn't quite call it a comfortable silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, either, but it was full of revelations that he did not want to face. Yet trying not to think about them only made him realize even more what had happened, and he did not know what to do with it.

Balthier and Fran were still sitting at a table in the inn, and Ashe murmured a quiet, "Thank you, Basch," before quickly disappearing to her room.

It wasn't until she was out of sight that Basch's heart slowed down and he felt like he could properly take a breath again. Then he sank down at one of the tables and buried his face in his hands. Gods, why had this happened? She was his princess, and he knew very well that their duties lay in separate venues. Not only that, but he was near twice her age. He had watched her as a child; he had guarded her and guided her and...and this was _not _supposed to have happened. He had nothing to offer her, _could _not ever offer her anything even if he did have something.

Words that Ashe had spoken to him on her wedding day rang suddenly through his mind. _"Have you ever loved, Basch?"_

_"Not as such."_

Basch closed his eyes tightly, even as a hand suddenly clapped on his back and Balthier said, "Come have a drink, my good man. You certainly look as though you could use one."

Basch frowned into his hands, and he did the only thing he really could do under these circumstances. He focused on his duty to Ashelia as her protector. His duty toward her outweighed anything else, and that was all he could cling to at that moment. It had to be enough to hold him steady, for her sake.

It was certainly not the first time he had placed his duty and responsibilities over anything he might have desired for himself, and he knew, in the wake of his sudden awareness of what had been happening between him and Ashelia, that it was certainly not going to be the last.


	6. VI

**A/N:** Thanks so much to Drink. Juice and TheAngel'sLover for reviewing yesterday's chapter. :)

This chapter I had planned from the beginning as how I wanted to end it, so I was able to write it very quickly. It's deliberately left open-ended; I had only intended this story to be something for me to sort of set up the history between Basch and Ashe up to the point where the game ended, because I do have a full-length story in mind, as long as I can actually get around to writing it. I wouldn't exactly call it a sequel to this, but in a way I suppose it would be, because this story gives me the history between them to work off of.

So here we are with the last chapter. I set the year as 707 because I figured it could have _just _turned 707; I figured they could have defeated Vayne at the end of 706, right? ;)

* * *

_**Year 707**_

It had been a very, very long time since Ashe had set foot in her mother's garden. Sunlight shone on the once-gleaming high walls, now covered in an uncontrolled mess of vines and ivy. The fountain had run dry, moss spreading across its surface. Where beautiful flowers had once bloomed in deliberate, flowing patterns, weeds had taken root and choked the garden. Her eyes were drawn to the corner of the courtyard, where the lone bench sat, barely noticeable now under the tangled foliage that ran amok on the walls. The flash of a laughing face danced through her memory, so clear for just that instant that she could almost hear the laughter echoing through the garden. The memory disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she lost the image until, as usual, she could hardly remember her mother's face.

Ashe sat in a patch of dirt positively springing with weeds and smiled a little. It held so many memories, this garden, and it was still a place where she could be alone, even after her years away from the palace. In the midst of everything else going on around her now, she had needed a few minutes to think. Her life was no longer one of a rebel princess on the run. She was once again surrounded by servants, soldiers, guards, councilors, people wanting answers and signatures and demanding something of her, and she had not yet even had her coronation. There was much to be sorted out before that moment. She was hard-pressed to put the palace back in order, and her attention was demanded every second of the day. In desperate need of some space to just breathe, she had slipped away from them all. She wondered how long it would be before someone finally found her.

She had no idea if she had inherited any of her mother's gardening skills. What little she recalled was from back when her mother was alive, when Ashe had sat in this place with her and helped pull weeds, plant bulbs, and water plants. Her white dress was covered in dirt smudges, but she did not care. She had certainly been much filthier in recent days, trudging through tombs and caves and slaying fiends. A little dirt was nothing. As she sat there pulling up weeds, she confused some of the flowers for weeds and accidentally tugged up some bulbs by mistake. These she set aside to replant once she had finished weeding.

Once she had finished weeding that section of garden, she realized she had been gone for longer than she really should have, and she would soon have to go back and face the questions, prodding, concerns, lectures, and endless decisions. Sighing, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and decided she would go after she replanted the bulbs.

She was halfway through this task when a footstep sounded from the doorway. She straightened and looked over her shoulder, resigned that she had been discovered.

She froze and blinked several times at the man standing in the garden entrance, turning on her knees so she could face him fully. "Basch?" He had cut his hair and neatly trimmed his beard, and he was dressed sharply in a guard's outfit.

"Majesty." A faint hint of a smile brushed across his face when he took in her dirt-covered clothes and hands. "I apologize for interrupting your work."

Ashe wiped her hands on her skirt and stood. "Does anyone else know I'm here?"

"Nay, my lady. You have caused quite a stir. Your guard was about to prepare a search for you."

Ashe sighed. "As I expected."

"I wondered if I might have a moment to speak with you, if you have time to spare."

"I will always have a moment for you, Basch," Ashe said firmly, but she rather suspected she might know what he had to say, and it made her heart drop and something within her crumbled a little. Still, she folded her hands in front of her expectantly.

Basch just looked at her inscrutably, as though trying to figure out exactly how to phrase what he had to say. Ashe's heart dropped a little further and her hands tightened. "I would ask for your leave to go to Archades with Lord Larsa," Basch finally said.

As she had suspected. She had heard something of Basch's final conversation with his brother and had wondered if it would come to this. "I see." Her words sounded blank even to her, but she was afraid that if she said anything else, she might lose her calm.

She knew she could--and would--carry on without the friends she had come to depend on so much the past months, but she was already torn by their absence. Balthier and Fran had still not been found among the wreckage of the _Bahamut, _and while she believed in her heart they were alive, she'd not received word to confirm that and it hurt. Vaan and Penelo had gone back to Lowtown to try to pull together their life in the city, and though they had promised to visit, Ashe knew things would never quite be the same again.

She had hoped--futilely, perhaps--that she would at least still have Basch. But even in that, she was not sure she could have ever been content. If he had chosen to remain as her protector, she would have to face him every day knowing how desperately she had come to love him. It was so strong that it had become impossible to deny to herself. And what of Basch? She had caught him, sometimes, looking at her in a way that made her heart race and her palms sweaty, and suspected he might reciprocate these feelings, but she knew Basch better than she knew anyone. He would keep his emotions in check, thinking it would be for her sake, for her protection. Their duties and situations seemed to make this love impossible.

Besides, Basch was still considered a traitor by most, and even if she could prove his name innocent--

She shook her head slightly to clear these miserable, heart-wrenching thoughts as something else occurred to her. "You are a known traitor in Archades."

"Perhaps I am," Basch said, "but Judge Gabranth is not."

Ashe stared at him with sudden, horrified understanding. "You are assuming Judge Gabranth's place?"

"By your leave, then yes, I am."

Ashe's breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes tightly.

"He wore my face to cause death and destruction," Basch said heavily. "Now I will wear his face to cause peace and restoration. If I can protect Lord Larsa, I can protect Dalmasca and its queen." There were more words there, more that he did not say. When Ashe still did not open her eyes, Basch said, "I understand if you cannot bear to see me this way. I will--"

He stopped talking abruptly when Ashe opened her eyes and threw her arms around him. She was hardly aware that she was doing it until her hands were pressed against his back and his entire body stiffened. "Majesty--"

Her arms tightened around him, memorizing the feel and scent and very presence of the one person who had given up everything of himself and asked for nothing in return. He stood stiffly, as she had expected he would, but then he surprised her by suddenly embracing her in return, fiercely and almost desperately. He breathed deeply once before releasing her. She withdrew her own arms, wiping her hands across her face and struggling for calm.

Ashe took a deep breath of her own and met Basch's eyes squarely. "I will never find it unbearable to look at you." How could she explain to him that this sacrifice he was making for Noah, a brother who had betrayed and hurt him unimaginably, only made her love him all the more? She could not. So she explained what she could. "I thought when I faced my father's murderer I would feel hatred for him. I suppose in some ways I did, but you have shown me what it truly means to forgive. No matter what armor you are wearing, I will always see your face, not his." She closed her eyes briefly and nodded once. "I give you leave, Basch fon Ronsenburg, for as long as you need."

"Thank you, Majesty." Basch looked as though he might bow, and Ashe narrowed her eyes, ready to stop him if he tried, but he simply settled with holding his arm out toward her. "Might I escort you back to your frantic guards?"

Ashe paused to scoop up the rest of her flower bulbs, tucking them into a pocket. She would come back later. There was still hours and hours of work to do to make this garden beautiful again. "You may." She took his arm and walked with him out of the courtyard.

She did not regret being Dalmasca's queen, or wish away the responsibility that came with it. She may not have chosen to be born to this task, but she had chosen to fight for it, and she would do everything she could to continue to restore her kingdom.

It was not the first time she had wished that her duties did not take away her freedom of who she gave her heart to, but it was the first time it had hurt so very terribly. And she realized, as she glanced over at Basch, that it did not matter anyway. Her heart was not her own anymore. It had been Basch's for some time, and she did not see how she would ever truly get it back again.


End file.
